


The Robin to My Batman (or; Richie’s Taste of Stressful, Unforgiving Romance with a Guy Who Might Make Him Manic: a novel) [AKA: He’s a Baddie!]

by richieblows



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Deadpool AU, M/M, eddie is spiderman, richie is deadpool, spider-man au, spideypool au?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-10-21 19:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20698979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/richieblows/pseuds/richieblows
Summary: Richie Tozier is going absolutely fucking manic; trying to juggle university, a shitty job, family, plus fighting crime [which doesn’t exactly pay as well as being a pizza delivery boy]– he thought he’d be a little too busy doing anything else. But meeting a mouthy hero makes him rethink that thought because seeing Spider-mans ass in tight spandex might make Richie weak in the knees and willing to spread himself thin. It might get even harder when he meets a loud mouthed classmate who he wouldn’t mind getting on his knees for either. Essentially: Richie Tozier is fucked every which way and it’s making him realize he might never be cut out for an orgy (get it? because everything in his life is fucking him so hard that he can’t handle it?– anyway).or; an au where richie is deadpool, eddie is spiderman– and they’re both just trying to work around college, work, and crime fighting.Updates every Sunday*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TEN chapters, Chris? You couldn’t even finish one! Ha-ha, guys I know! It’s crazy ambitious and I doubt I’ll finish it all! But I like to set goals for myself and wear myself out! So here we are!
> 
> also sorry about the long bitch of a title– I figured if you’re gonna mix deadpool + richie tozier into one person then you’re gonna get an obnoxiously annoying amount of bullshit from the very start so!

Richie was never really a fan of New York City, he had to admit. He never liked living there, he always dreamed of living in a nice suburban home with happy parents, maybe a dog, a white picket fence– all that cutesy shit. But New York was a complete one-eighty from that dream. It was dirty, with tall buildings and rude fucks trying to shove by because their lives were more important than others. It was rough around the edges and Richie hated it to its core but, well… it was home. And it also felt like some sort of symbolism of who he was on the inside– kind of gross and nasty; essentially a human dumpster– but with a few good things that made him almost charming. 

“New York City… New York. The city that never sleeps,” his feet kicked out carelessly along the edge of the building as he hummed the tune blasting from his walkman to himself. He glanced down at the sandwich in his lap before scanning the streets he was patrolling, everything seemed pretty okay, “trailing with druggies, baddies, and– wow, _ honeys— _ why _ hello _there beautiful—“ his eyes darted down to see a woman that may have been too gorgeous to be walking around in Deadpool’s part of town, but it was also eight in the morning on a Sunday, so he supposed he’d let the honey pass— it was God’s day after all. 

He shook himself out of his messy thoughts to focus himself back in, _ Christ _ . How can he call himself an antihero (who occasionally might’ve murdered someone _ accidentally _ ) when he can’t even stay focused on watching over his city when a pretty thing strolls by? He was losing his train of thought the faster he argued with himself, and he was beginning to think that he might have some issues paying attention– he should definitely tell someone about that. He lifted his mask up just above his nose and took a bite of his sandwich. Auntie A had made him the best honey and peanut butter toasted sandwich he’d ever had, and he might have to thank her for it at some point. “The city is in constant disarray, the air is _ thick _ with tension– when suddenly! Danger arises! Who is there to save the poor citizens of NYC? Who’s that, jumping from the sky? Deadpool! _ Oh!” _ He licked at his sticky fingers, barely noticing the sudden swoop of red and blue whipping past him and a shout of _ “Hey asshole, why don’t you fucking help!” _ He nearly fell off the building from the sudden shock, before he saw the back of Spider-Man’s perky ass swinging off to stop some sort of evil. Upon looking up, he didn’t expect to see that giant green fucker– it wasn’t the _ Hulk _ was it? The Hulk was a good guy… this guy looked like the Hulk and the Green Goblin fucked and made tha– Abomination! Abomination was his name– busily stomping throughout the city, screaming and smashing at whatever he could. _ Maybe I should stop listening to music so loudly, _ Richie thought. He looked down at his lap and sighed, noticing his sandwich was gone and had splattered onto the cement ground a few stories below.

”My sandwich...”

He stood up and checked his immediate surroundings. There were no citizens to be found, probably hiding inside because of the inevitable fight that was to be had. Looking up, Richie couldn’t help but admire the way that Spider-Man threw his body full force at the giant, with his small body colliding into him, only to effortlessly knock him down onto his back. Richie could only dream that he’d be so lucky to have Spidey on him like that one day. If Spidey happened to break a few of his bones in the process of their steamy make out session, Richie certainly wouldn’t mind.

Now listen, Richie didn’t exactly think he’d ever be lucky enough to get super powers. But a lot happened when he was diagnosed with things he couldn't exactly comprehend as a kid– all he knew was that his mom was crying a little too much and his dad might have taken a liking to drinking. His dad became a piece of shit fast. Never _ hitting _ per say, but he knew a fucked up beginning when he saw one. Having a messed up kid might have took its toll on their little family, but there was something off about them anyway. He wasn’t surprised to see old Went essentially deteriorating from drug use, progressing from alcohol to hallucinogens to cocaine and fun fact: meth heads plus cancer infested kids plus depressed moms didn’t exactly mix. So now mommy’s dead and her last wish was for Daddy Tozier to find at least _ some _ way to get baby boy Richie some help– which turned into Richie being poked and prodded and experimented on for years in exchange for a hefty wad of cash for daddy T to use to overdose on.

It wasn’t like Richie was angry about it, exactly. But finding out that he’d been cured of cancer after the first year of being trapped in that shit hole was a little frustrating. Especially when he’d been there for three fucking years. After those wacko doctors who had a hard on for experimenting on humans thought he’d finally fucking died, he was left in a dumpster, found by a lovely old couple, and the rest was history. He didn’t like to think that all the excitement peaked when he was seven years old, but he tried to continue life as normally as he could. But how does a kid really live a _ normal _ life after being heavily experimented on, and being basically torn apart and sewn back up by a guy that made Richie _ definitely _ question his sexuality. He couldn’t lie– that evil doctor was the main character of his wet dreams. But again, what could he do? Listen to the Spice Girls and act like everything was okay? 

_ If you want my future, forget my past _

_ If you wanna get with me, better make it fast _

_ Now don't go wasting my precious time _

_ Get your act together we could be just fine _

“God, who would’ve thought they could be _ this _ good,” Richie hummed. His walkman was in terrible need of an update– he was getting tired of mixing his own music or finding old shitty cassettes from thrift stores. He perked up when he heard a loud crash coming from his right, which shook himself from his thoughts. He was supposed to be doing something– what was he doing internally monologuing all of his personal issues?

Richie scrambled up to his feet, stumbling off the side of the building and crashing against a closed dumpster, before rolling onto the cement ground beside it. Groaning, he staggered up and began the slow trek toward the giant green fuck that was trashing his city. Carelessly pulling the mask down to cover the rest of his face and kicking at his destroyed sandwich on the sidewalk, he began a brisk jog toward the chaos. 

“Hey you!” Deadpool shouted, huffing a little when Abomination turned to look at him. He held up a crushed car in one hand, the other holding the holier than thou Spider-Man who was shouting at Deadpool to _ stop him already! _ Deadpool took a few steps forward, “Jolly Green Giant looking _ bitch _ –” now, _ listen. _ Until this moment, Richie had never had a car thrown at him by the force of a large, angry, alien monster. But he wasn’t surprised to find that the searing pain in his body wasn’t any different than getting hit by a car at a normal driving speed. Which has happened, on multiple occasions.

Maybe today wasn’t his day, he was usually pretty smart when it came to things like witty comebacks and _ dodging huge fucking cars– _ maybe it was the fact that he was trying to fight alongside Spider-man. _ The _ Spider-man. The _ Amazing _ Spider-man! The Spider-Man that may be another main character in his wet dreams. In these dreams where he needs saving and hopefully rewards Richie with a thank-you-for-saving-me-blowjob. It took a second to push those thoughts away, but Richie slowly forced himself to stand the moment he heard Spider-man’s angry shouts. “Hey! I’m not done with you yet–” Richie grunted.

“Quiet!” the Green fucker roared, before he was using Spider-Man as the next thing to throw at Richie.

“Don’t worry, babydoll!” Richie shouted, his hands outstretched to catch him in his arms. When he stumbled and looked up to catch Spidey, he was gone– what the fuck– and back to swinging after Abomination and stopping him on his own. Deadpool sighed heavily, running after the two.

\---

Richie _ had _ caused the fatal blow, knocking the Abominable Green Giant out with a stab to the eye. He was pretty proud of himself for it, and seeing the sultry way Spider-man moved his hips as he walked towards him left him drooling. Spidey stood in front of Richie, looking up at him curiously. Deadpool smiled behind the mask, scratching the back of his neck and looking around. There wasn’t a soul in sight; there must’ve been some sort of news warning of a monster threat happening in the area. “God, I’m fangirling really hard right now like you wouldn’t fucking believe.” Richie blurted out, but Spider-man didn’t seem too amused. Richie didn’t think he would be as short as he was, not that Richie was complaining in the slightest.

“I’ve heard of you, you know,” Spider-Man said, before he started pacing. “You’re the guy that murders bad guys and thinks that it’s a great way to keep bad people off the streets. You claim to be a hero–”

“Well, antihero–”

“–Yet you’re eating a sandwich while the city is getting destroyed!” Spider-Man hissed, his arms outstretched as though he were pleading with Richie. Like he didn’t know that a super(anti)hero like himself could be dumb enough to check out girls instead of fighting crime. In his defense, that girl who walked through his street was legally distracting, and his sandwich was _ good _– and yeah, Richie never thought he would set Spider-man off to pace and scold him as if he was his mother (did moms scold their kids? How would he know?) 

“Is it bad that you getting mad at me is turning me on a little bit?” Richie asked, and seeing Spider-man freeze on the spot might’ve made him realize that saying those words in that sentence arranged in _ that _way might’ve just been a bad idea. “I mean– well, I meant what I said. But I wish I hadn’t said it.”

“Do you need to be taught how to be a superhero or some shit?” Spider-Man asked, and he sounded tired. And he sounded _ young _, but what did Richie expect? He didn’t think a 40-something had an ass as perky or the energy to fight 12-foot tall monsters.

“Depends, are you gonna Yoda me right now?” 

“Am I gonna what?” 

“Star Wars? Have you not– oh God. You’re pretty as fuck but uncultured, aren’t you?” Richie took a step forward, and Spidey took an instinctive step back. Of course Richie understood why; who could trust a guy that just stabbed a monster in the face without remorse? “Okay, okay– I get it. I’m not the most… _ heroic, _ of heroes. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get the job done, sweetheart.”

“You’re just as bad as this guy!” Spidey snapped, and Richie realized that he might be a little tired and irritated by the way this conversation was going. 

“Okay, I was expecting at least a thank you for saving your ass, but if I’m not getting one then I’m kinda over this _ lovely _ conversation.” he admitted, stretching his arms up over his head. “I’m not in the mood for the Amazing Spiderman–” he whispered ‘ _ trademark’ _ under his breath, “–to psychoanalyze me and tell me that I probably only murder baddies because I might have all this underlying PTSD and trauma because my father sold me off for meth so whenever I see a bad guy or some shit I get set off–” that might’ve been the wrong thing to say. If Spidey’s mask showed anything, it definitely looked like there was more concern under it than before. The silence might have been a little more suffocating than Richie would have liked. Rather than saying anymore, he shook his head and turned around to begin walking the opposite direction towards his home. How stupid could he have been? What kind of introduction was that? How was he going to get into the exclusive and super secret superhero club now, if there even was one? 

“I patrol at night!” he heard Spidey shout. He twisted around to see him scratching at the back of his mask. He looked worse for wear, with burnt patches on parts of his suit and blood staining others. “You can uh, come. If you want. _ Sometimes. _” He emphasized, and Deadpool smiled.

“Are you asking because of my sad little backstory or because you want to teach this poor lamb how to fight crime like a good guy? You want me to be the Robin to your Batman?”

“Because I want to see what Deadpool is actually capable of.” Spider-Man said, and that bold statement might’ve gone straight to Richie’s dick. “I’ll be up on Broadway and forty-second tomorrow night. See you then,” and he was webbing away.

Richie sighed dreamily as he watched him go, before he was casually walking off back home, deciding to take a break for the rest of the day to jerk off about the best encounter he’d ever had with another superhero.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie's just really tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2! who would've thought I would make a second chapter? I'm already writing chapter 4 though so I hope you're all still with me at this point! I wanna say chapter 4 is raunchy but we will seeeeee please feel free to comment or criticize or something, comments motiviate me a whole lot!
> 
> my tumblr is @kitschyrichie say hey!

Eddie was tired, couldn’t anyone tell? He was tired of going to school for biophysics and biochem, and he was tired of having to make plans with his friends only to have to slip away to fight crime. He was tired of patrolling, and he was tired of having to fight bad guys and he was so _ so _tired of having to find a way to take intricate selfies of himself for Jameson’s fucking newspaper; he was spreading himself thinner than Stanley’s cream cheese on his fucking bagels.

He quietly stepped onto the balcony of his dingy apartment, before he was stumbling inside through an unlocked window and falling into bed with a quiet huff. He was tired; that’s for sure. He was aching from getting the shit beat out of him, and it wasn’t even ten in the morning. He struggled out of his suit, kicking it into his closet before he was falling into bed with a frustrated sigh. 

He knew, deep down– that he was doing all of this for a reason. He was keeping his city safe, and he was being responsible by staying up at ungodly hours of the night to study while also patrolling for anything suspicious. He just wished that he was able to live a normal life for one day; it’s all he really needed. Just one day of being an average college student who gets drunk and maybe accidentally makes out with someone in a bathroom or something– he didn’t care. 

He just needed five minutes, that’s all. 

Just five.

.

.

.

.

.

.

A buzzing sound woke him up an hour later, with him quietly grunting as he slammed his hand around his nightstand to find his phone. He answered the call with a yawn, mumbling a quiet, “hello” before he was bombarded by his friends' voices, asking him where he was and what he was doing and when was he going to _ see them _ and– “Please- for the love of God shut _ up _. What do you want?”

“We wanted to make sure that you were alive, asshole. We saw all that shit on the news–” Stanley huffed through the phone.

_ “And we wanna meet Deadpool!” _came a scream from the other side of the line, and Eddie hung up immediately.

Deadpool? Fucking Deadpool. He’d heard about him a couple of times. He was reckless, and he didn’t really care much for keeping people alive. If he could kill someone who was bad, he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He was just doing this for a job, half the time, according to Eddie’s sources. So he couldn’t align himself with someone like him, someone without morals and without a care for how their society was made up. He was like some sort of vigilante in the fight with Abomination. As if the whole situation itself was some sort of play that he was the main character in, with Eddie being support in the end. It was frustrating, having to tell Deadpool to _ not kill Abomination _ before he heard that stupid sword slicing through thick skin and a maniacal laugh, followed by a _ well, he’s not dead. _ It was true, but it was horrifying to watch nonetheless.

And Eddie– well. Eddie was just tired.

\---

University was tough. Going to university with his two best friends made it bearable. Sitting in at his first lecture and getting bumped to the back because he might’ve woken up a _ little _ late which meant almost all the seats were filled made the start of his school day a little boring. Having to sit next to a guy who was snoring louder than Eddie believed was reasonable made it intolerable. He sighed heavily, running a hand over his face as he tried to intently listen in on his lecture, but he just wasn’t having it. Deciding to give up, he packed up his belongings for the day and slipped away when he still could.

He’d never left a class before, but the tension was easing from his shoulders the further he moved away from the science department. He began his quiet walk home, texting his friends idly as he made his way up the steps to his shitty apartment. 

Eddie’s life wasn’t easy. Living in a small town his entire life made everything feel so constricting– that, and an overbearing mother who would lock him away in fear of potential disease infecting her son. It left Eddie forced to slip away at night to feel the cold grass at his feet, and the wind whipping at his face. He was barely allowed to go to school as a child, and he was immediately snatched up by his mother the moment his last class ended. It was hell, having to go through that, along with the constant doctors visits with reassurances that _ “your son is fine, Ms. Kaspbrak–” _but they’d drugged him up anyway, just to get her away from them.

Eddie guessed that the doctors really didn’t mind sacrificing Eddie’s mind and body to an encyclopedia of drugs and tests just to get his mother off of their backs. He guessed the only plus side to being trapped at home was the fact that he studied hard enough to go to a university that was too far for his mother to travel to– so maybe he had to thank her for something after all.

Leaving had been difficult. With her insisting that Derry’s college was just as prestigious as New York University, where he could get the same education that he wanted and not have to live far from home. Eddie had to tell her that his majors weren’t available at the school, and he knew he had to run for it the moment she told him to change his major. With Stanley and Ben, he packed up everything he could and dashed out of the house, narrowly missing his mother’s sobs and begs for him to stay home.

He never looked back.

Going to school and ditching his controlling mother hadn’t been the only difficult thing that happened during his next chapter into his future. Majoring in science was something he thought he’d be able to do, something that felt so right– and getting bitten by a spider during a trip to the science exhibit hadn’t been a part of the plan. It was dangerous, that was for sure– the moment he felt that pain coursing through his body, he was quick to call Stan, shaking from the inhuman adrenaline that had hit him so suddenly. 

Stan had dragged him home, insisting that he be taken to a hospital but that just wasn't an option. He couldn’t stand another hospital, he couldn’t stand being force fed pills anymore. “I’d rather die by a spider bite than go back.” was Eddie’s cruel response. Stan panicked as Eddie stayed inside for a week, trembling and curled up in bed, at some points unable to respond to Stanley due to how weak he’d felt.

It took a week of drastic decline in Eddie’s health before it spiked suddenly. He’d woken up one day and rushed to school, eager to make up for lost time. He’d never felt more awake, more self aware and ready to just… _ do _ something. Stanley nearly fainted seeing Eddie back to normal, seeing that Eddie looked dead the day before. “I dunno, I guess the venom must’ve left my system. Except—“ Eddie pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to show Stanley the bite mark that he’d been scarred over, where blue veins were dark and evident on his pale skin. “It looks kind of cool, right?”

Stanley was not amused.

Finding out he had super powers was another experience entirely. Accidentally dislocating a guy’s shoulder by gripping him too hard as he gave Eddie a blowjob was mortifying, but he didn’t give it much thought as he should have. 

He’d found out on accident, really. But the best superheroes usually do. Stan had insisted that drinking away their stressful week of midterms would do Eddie good. He reluctantly agreed, only to be taken to a downtown club with too many strobe lights and too many people. It was so suffocating in the club that Eddie had made a bet that they were over the legal capacity in their club. So much so that Eddie had agreed to be dragged out into the alley by a guy who seemed too handsy and all too eager to get Eddie to be alone with him. After politely rejecting him, Eddie was ultimately ignored in favor of this man's hand grabbing too much of his ass. Which ended in Eddie shoving him so hard that he slammed into the brick wall across from them, cracking the brick and then falling to the ground. 

Eddie didn’t go out for weeks after that. Being holed up in his room gave him time to assess the situation, and it was time he told someone.

“I think something’s wrong with me, Stan.” Eddie mumbled one day. Stanley hummed in agreement, too invested in his textbook to really grasp the dire reality of Eddie’s situation. Maybe it was the frustration, or the fact that he’d been cooped up in his room for so long without any human contact, but the lack of response left him agitated. He took Stan’s thick textbook into his hands and slammed it closed, before tearing it in half.

“What the fuck!” Stanley snapped, before he saw the two halves of his textbook in Eddie’s hands. “What the fuck…”

“I think something is wrong with me.”

This led to a series of “tests” that they’d performed at night. Walking through the more secluded parts of New York, it was easy to find out that Eddie was suddenly able to lift cars, climb walls, even run faster than the average sprinter. 

“I’m gonna be honest with you, here.” Stan murmured. He was curled up in his sweater, scarf and coat but he was still shivering. It was late in Central Park, and he was getting tired of all the strange things that were happening to Eddie. Hell, Eddie was wearing a shirt and shorts and it was _ freezing _ , he didn’t seem the least bit bothered. “No one can just… _ lift _ a car. Or just climb a wall suddenly, Eddie. I’ve never seen you run that effortlessly without wheezing. Hell,” Stan moved towards Eddie, before punching him as hard as he possibly could. “I doubt you even felt that. I think…” he trailed off, looking up at the sky to see the gentle onslaught of snow begin to fall. “I think you might be superhuman. Somehow— I don’t know how exactly but… don’t go to the hospital for this.” Stanley warned.

Eddie only laughed, before giving Stanley a nudge that nearly had him toppling over. “I didn’t go when I nearly died a few weeks ago, what makes you think… that I would...“ they both stopped at stared at each other, before Stanley looked at the spider bite on Eddie’s arm.

The rest was history.

—-

“_ Please _ don’t try to criticize how I handled that Abomination guy, I know I shouldn’t have let him get stabbed in the fucking face but that Deadpool asshole didn’t really give me a chance to ask him nicely.”

Stanley was not amused, then again he never really is. But Ben seemed all too eager to put on a supportive front. “It’s okay, you weren’t the one who did it.”

“_ Yes _, but he is the one who is going to be pinned alongside Deadpool as being one of those bad guys.” Stan quipped.

Eddie snagged another one of Ben’s fries before the plate was being pushed in front of him. “Get this— when I got the call I was getting to downtown as fast as I could right? I’m webbing around and I see Deadpool on the ledge of a building eating a sandwich!” Eddie hissed, struggling to swallow his fries as he told the story. “I tell him to stop being useless and _ help _ and then I throw myself at this green guy, and it takes another twenty minutes for Deadpool to get there. At this point that Abomination guy is slamming me into every fucking wall he can,” Eddie took a quick gulp of Stanley’s soda, “and then just… walks on over and gets a car thrown at him. And then he throws me!”

Where Stanley’s eyes were rolling, Ben’s were wide with amazement. “Did he end up catching you?” Ben asked.

“No way, I swung out of there the get the bad guy. He looked like he was trying to though, it was kind of… sweet? I guess…” Eddie trailed off. He didn’t exactly know what to expect from Deadpool. He’d been told that he was a vigilante and a convict. Someone without any serious morals. Eddie ran a hand through his hair and huffed. “He’s an antihero.”

“There was this whole news broadcast of the fight, you know.” Ben chirped, and Eddie perked up at that. 

“Really?” Eddie murmured. Stanley shoved his plate in front of Eddie and crossed his arms.

“Yeah, you two were definitely flirting or something. You both seemed way too invested in your conversation, it looked kind of dramatic.” Stanley chimed in. 

Leave it to Stanley to make Eddie sound like he was flirting with another superhuman. “I wasn’t _ flirting _. I was telling him that he needs to start acting like a superhero.”

“He was taller than you. That’s your sole requirement for being attracted to a man.” Stan stated, and the jumpy look in Ben’s eyes told Eddie that he agreed. He laughed harder than he should have. Deadpool was nothing more than a mouthy, annoying, over the top murderer who wore a suit that somewhat resembled his own. 

“I’m never gonna see him again, it doesn’t even matter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you're all enjoying this! (:


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spider-Man and Deadpool spend some low quality time together!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy, didn't really beta it too much. hopefully it's okay though! see you next sunday (:

“So… how’s it hangin?” Deadpool asked the little super spider who sat at the ledge, fully alert. Spider-Man looked maybe… less than amused. Absolutely no expression, his mask didn’t move at all. Not that Richie could tell whether Spidey was happy or sad or angry when the mask shifted a little bit, no. But his body movements and silence sort of gave it away. Richie looked away shyly and scratched at the back of his mask. God. He hated wearing a mask. It was suffocating and sweaty. Or maybe it was just this awkward atmosphere that left Richie feeling so constricted, he didn’t know.

He had sat at the ledge of the building a little early, humming a soft tune to himself. He wanted to leave a better impression of himself for Spider-Man; he wanted to seem responsible. He had thought it over for a few days and figured, why not _ try _ being a good guy for a change? He could amuse the spider for a little bit; and if he got bored he could just go back to killing of bad guys, right? He felt as though he had to make up for their first meeting, because upon telling his friends the hot gossip of their meet-cute, he was informed that he apparently didn’t have a way with words. 

_ “You told him that he was turning you on?” Beverly asked. _

_ “I mean... he was! I just got nervous, you know? The guy I’ve admired for awhile now was fighting crime right beside me! It’s hard not to say the first thing that comes out of your mouth.” _

_ “But did you explicitly state that he was turning you on?” _

_ “Maybe.” His friend group groaned in response. _

Beverly, Bill and Mike. Three of his best friends… well, three of his only friends, really. The only people he ever considered friends, anyway; and he was all too lucky to find people who weren’t ashamed to know a mess like him._ “Stop calling yourself a mess,” _ Beverly would say, before hitting him hard enough to bruise a normal person. It only made Richie’s heart grow fonder. She was strong and demanding and charming and if Richie wasn’t so… _ Richie _, then he probably would’ve definitely seen a promising future for the both of them.

Billiam Denbrough– Richie never really knew why Bill bothered with him, but he never outwardly questioned it. Bill was as much of a friend as he was a role model, always lecturing him for killing someone here or stabbing someone there. He was always giving Richie advice, like Richie assumed a father would. He was an encouraging part of his life, someone who was leading him to be a responsible person, and a better friend because of it.

And Mike, always there to listen in during Richie’s bad days. Those days where he’s antsy, and feels like there are too many things going on at once and he’s choking on air and everything around him feels like it’s going up in flames. Those days where Richie will tear at his flesh and throw himself in front of a train just to get himself to stop thinking because, well, there are a lot of thoughts bouncing around up there. And if jumping in front of oncoming traffic will get those thoughts to quiet down, well… It’s worth a shot to him. But Mike hated seeing Richie so pained, so he was always welcoming him with open arms. Where he could cry and scream and let out all of his frustrations, and Mike was just… there. A good, comfy ol’ chap.

Richie looked down at the bustling streets of downtown New York, enjoying the scenery of the active nightlife around him. It was beautiful, he had to admit, but he’d rather stay at home and binge watch a show. He never understood why people enjoyed peoplewatching, it left him feeling antsy. What if someone was watching him, watch people? He took another bite of his sandwich as he continued his loud humming, until he heard the gentle, almost silent footsteps of Spider-Man approaching him. “You shouldn’t hang off the ledge like that. You’re gonna be seen.” Spidey murmured.

“You would be a really good assassin, you’re so quiet.” Richie replied. His mask was lifted to his nose so he could eat his chocolate chip and marshmallow sandwich. He turned to look back and smile at Spider-Man, who turned away almost immediately. 

“What the _ fuck _ are you doing!” he hissed, and Richie frowned. Spider-Man stood with his back to Richie, his arms crossed.

“Oh! Did you want some of my sandwich? I think I have another one somewhere, it’s really good. It’s chocolate chip and marshmallow and–”

“No, Jesus– your mask, you moron. What if I recognized you? What would you do then? What if I knew who you were and told someone about it? You need to start thinking about these things if you want to keep yourself and your family out of danger.”

Richie smiled. Only Spider-Man would be so worried about something simple like that. He stuffed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth before he was slipping his mask over his face again. He stood up and quietly walked over to where the spider stood, with his back to Richie. He shouldn’t have been ogling his body but he couldn’t help it. With an ass like that, Richie would surrender right then and there. He loved the way that suit stretched over his shoulders and his back had to be sculpted by the Gods, Richie was sure of it. That suit was like a second skin, and Richie wanted to taste it. “You’ve got an ass on you, you know that?” Spider-Man whipped around and Richie could tell he was glaring. “I’m just making conversation!” Richie laughed, grunting when he was shoved aside. He could feel that repressed power in that gentle shove, and it only peeked Richie’s interest, but he held himself back. _ Just be normal. _

So that’s where they were. With Richie curled up against a wall, and Spider-Man sitting in that weird way he sits as he scouts for trouble. “This is kinda boring,” Richie admitted, but he smiled when he heard Spider-Man snort. 

“Do you think being a superhero is all about fighting crime?” He asked, before he was moving from his perch to stand in front of Richie. Richie didn’t know if it was subconscious or part of the aesthetic but, Spidey would sometimes move like a spider. It was interesting to see the way he gracefully moved and twisted his body around; he looked so flexible. “You need to be alert at all times. You look like you just woke up after a long night out and… that’s not exactly how a superhero should look.” 

“Hold on,” Richie murmured, before he was standing up from his uncomfortable spot on the roof, certainly not as gracefully as Spider-Man. “You know I’ve been fighting crime way longer than you have, don’t you?”

Spider-Man shrugged and gave Richie a gentle pat on his shoulder. It felt almost teasing, the way he sarcastically clapped a hand on his arm as though they were buddies sharing a moment. “Well, it _ really _ doesn’t seem like it. I’ve only heard of you a couple of times.” Spidey let his hand drop back to his side, and Richie couldn’t help but frown while Spidey smiled. He took a step forward and leaned into his space.

“That’s because no one gets to live to tell my stories, baby boy.” This wasn’t exactly going the way Richie had hoped it would go. He was hoping he would snag a bouquet of roses on his way to their meet up spot, hand them to Spider-Man and proclaim his undying love for that perky ass. Which would then lead to Spider-Man _ maybe _ sitting on his face, if he played his cards right. But the flower shop was closed, and his friends told him that he couldn’t break into any more stores. And he was getting into an argument with a guy who was really starting to push his buttons a little bit. Not that Richie minded one bit, no. If anything, it only turned him on a little.

“You really are asking for it, aren’t you?” He asked, and Richie wanted to kiss him. God, he really wanted to kiss him. If that body and that voice was anything to go by, Spidey was as god-like as they came. Richie’s eyes trailed over Spider-Man’s face, over his blank mask and down his pretty chest where his signature logo was. He was so short, and flexible and mouthy and biteable. So he did what any other lunatic would do and pressed his masked lips right against Spidey’s. Which was probably not his best idea, but he never really had any that he could categorize as good ideas, let alone his best. Richie wasn’t surprised when he was thrown into a brick wall hard enough to crack his bones. He groaned as he hit the ground again, before Spider-Man was standing over him. “Do you wanna try that one more time?” He asked.

“That depends,” he groaned as he rolled onto his back to look up at him, “Are you gonna quit the whole virgin act and let me?” Richie grunted, before Spider-Man was squatting down and flicking his forehead. Richie stayed on the ground, letting his body heal up any necessary damages before he struggled to sit up. Spider-Man sat next to him and sighed.

“Why are you so carefree? You don’t take anything seriously.” He muttered as he rubbed his hand over his masked mouth.

Richie turned to look at Spider-Man, who was gazing out at the city. He looked so unhappy, it almost made Richie feel bad for the kiss. _ Almost _ . “Have you ever thought that you might have a stick up your ass?” Spider-Man's head whipped over to glare at Richie, who threw his hands up defensively. “I’m just _ saying _ that… _ maybe _ you’re not having as much fun being a hero because you set high expectations for yourself. Why don’t you just sit here and talk to me?”

“Because you’re a bad guy.” was Spidey’s quiet reply. 

“If I was a bad guy, you would’ve taken me out by now.” Richie murmured. He scrambled around until he was laying his head in Spider-Man’s lap and smiling. “We don’t know each other. So why don’t you just throw it all out there. What’s on your mind, bug?”

The space between them was quiet for a long time. Spider-Man looked out at the night life while Richie patiently sat there. He was surprised that Spider-Man hadn’t cracked his skull open like an egg yet, but maybe he was just contemplating it. Richie was about to call it quits, but was surprised to hear Spider-Man’s sudden flow of frustration. He complained about _ everything _. From his family to his friends, to school and his love life, or lack thereof. To the difficulties of his job as well as his frustrations with being a superhero. It was wearing him out, and Richie didn’t think he could relate to anything more.

The deep conversations turned to light hearted ones, which turned into arguments, then laughs. And they lived happily ever after. 

\---

“You’re so fucking annoying.” Spider-Man said flatly, and Richie couldn’t help but laugh aloud. 

It had been three weeks since they’d started this small routine of theirs. Meet up on their little building perch, maybe stuff their faces with whatever was in Richie’s little Hello Kitty backpack, and then just… talk. It was refreshing, talking to another superhuman who had a similar life to his. He’d never thought he’d make a friend like Spider-Man, given his less than socially acceptable reputation. But Spider-Man seemed to be more understanding of Richie, if not more critical as well. He upheld high expectations for how he’d act during fights, but not high enough that Richie couldn’t fulfill his demands. And he was _ funny. _ He cracked jokes and poked fun at Richie and made everything so normal. He was intelligent and quick witted and so damn charming that Richie couldn’t _ help _ but write about him in his super secret diary.

They became a crime fighting duo in a matter of weeks. With Spidey swinging off with Richie holding onto him by his hips (which had taken them both a lot of practicing). They would take on the bad guys head on, and the tabloids were questioning whether Deadpool was good or bad, as well as Spider-Man. In only a month, things were beginning to turn around for Richie, all because Spider-Man thought to take a chance on him.

“Hold on, excuse me? I’m annoying? Me? Because–”

“Yes, Deadpool, _ you’re _ annoying because you think nacho cheese and pickles taste good together. Yes.” They were lying side by side, on their signature building, gazing up at the stars that looked almost nonexistent with the bright city lights below. 

“You’ve never even tried it before.” 

“It’s not socially acceptable.” Spider-Man huffed. 

“You like honey on your pizza– that’s weird as shit.” Richie replied, before he was rolling to his side to face Spider-Man. “I feel like we’re middle schoolers at a sleepover. Truth or dare?” Spider-Man ignored him, but Richie continued on. “Do you have a date to the Spring Fling? I heard Chelsea Ann has a crush on you!” 

“Shut _ up _ please.”

Richie could already tell that they would be lifetime friends.

\---

“It’s a party, Richie. You _ love _ parties!” Beverly exclaimed, with her hands gripping at Richie’s shoulders to stop him from walking. But the superhuman strength kinda prevented that. She jumped on his back instead, which, again, did nothing. 

“I just don’t really feel like going to any parties.” Richie murmured. It had been two months since he had his heart to heart with Spider-Man. He should probably rephrase. It had been two of the best, most life changing and fun months he’d had in years after he had his heart to heart with Spider-Man. With them patrolling almost every night, which was really just them talking and getting to know each other better, it left Richie excited to see him. The only problem he had was the fact that Spidey didn’t trust him enough to tell him the intricate details of his life, which meant that Deadpool wouldn’t tell him either, because he was a little petty. Spidey could tell him some thermodynamic biological shit with spiders or something– but he wouldn’t dare to tell him things like his guilty pleasures or about his friends or even how _ old _ he was. But they did exchange phone numbers, with Spider-Man _ only _ willing to do so if he got a phone solely for Deadpool, not his normal alias. It was awkward walking into a store to buy himself a new phone in his whole suit, but no one seemed to mind. 

“You haven’t gone out with us in _ weeks _ .” Beverly groaned. She wasn’t exactly _ wrong _ , but he was finally making a breakthrough with the itsy bitsy spider and he couldn’t just stop while he was ahead, could he? What if he missed just one of their quiet nights together? Spidey would probably be alone all night thinking about how stupid he must’ve been to let Deadpool into his world, and then when Richie went back to their usual spot Spidey would be gone to hang out with the Hulk or Quicksilver– or maybe the Human Torch. Richie _ hated _ the Human Torch.

“Bev, you know how much I love babysitting while you’re all drunk but… I already have… plans?” 

“With Spider-Man, I know! We all know you want to hang out with him because he’s your weird jerk off material.” Richie couldn’t exactly deny that but– “Can’t you miss it one time? Why don’t you just tell him tonight so you can to the party with us next week?” Her puppy dog eyes left Richie feeling a bit sorry. With a heavy sigh, he accepted. He could cancel once with Spider-Man and it wouldn’t be a big deal. It would be fine, wouldn’t it?

\---

“So, Spidey. Listen. I really _ really _ wanna hang out with you because you aren’t telling me anything about yourself yet and I feel like if I continue poking at you, you’ll eventually start telling me about the guy under the mask. But unfortunately my friends think I’m avoiding them so I have to go hang out with them tomorrow even though I really don't want to. I mean I do, but I really want to hang out with you too.” Richie said aloud. He groaned internally, shaking his head as he paced. Why did he have to explain himself in the first place, why did any of that matter? Spider-Man couldn’t give less of a shit if he went out with his friends or if he decided to never even see him again. It was raining– it was always raining on Richie’s bad days, he noticed.

Deadpool was just a part of the job, to Spider-Man. He would much rather babysit him than see him stab another baddie in the face. Richie sat down on the ledge of the building and looked out along the quiet streets of New York. Hearing the sudden nimble steps coming from behind him were like music to his ears. “Spidey–” he turned around, his smile fading. 

“Not quite.”

A foot cracked into his face, knocking him off the building. Hitting the ground below left a hard crack in the street. Cars screeched to a stop around him, with Richie groaning and blurrily looking up to see a figure up on the building. He choked on the blood spilling from his nose, nearly drowning him in his mask. He pushed his mask up to his lips, gasping for breath, forcing himself to swallow the blood flowing into his mouth. “What the fuck…” he coughed. The white suited fuck waved at Deadpool from above, and he couldn’t help the surge of annoyance bubbling up. 

“The name’s Moonstone, haven’t you heard of little ol’ me?” she sang. She was a beauty, a pretty white eye mask leaving her face exposed– a rookie move– with blonde hair spilling every which way. Her suit was white, save for the golden gloves and golden dip in her suit at the front. She was a fucking _ vision _ and Richie couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

“How am I supposed to fight a girl?” Deadpool groaned, sighing heavily when she seemed to gracefully fall off of the building, until she was using all of her force to slam him harder into the ground. Rock and sediment washed over them, with Richie’s eyes barely open as she stood over him with a charming smile on her face. She was a pretty blonde thing, and Richie might’ve been dizzy with the sudden impact or the way that her body was pressed flush to his. 

“Thanks for breaking my fall.” she said softly, before she was standing up and dusting herself off. She stepped out of the deep hole Deadpool was crushed in, watching as citizens ran off in all directions. “What’s the fuss? Where’s everybody off too? Aren’t we just getting started?” She asked. 

Deadpool was slow to move out of the hole he’d found himself in. Was this symbolism? Some type of foreshadowing? Once he got to his feet, he pointed at the pretty woman ruining his day. “I’ve only fought with three women, so you’ll have to excuse me if I forget the etiquette on how this whole thing works.”

“Well, clearly they weren’t any match for you,” she purred, eyeing Richie up and down with a look that left Richie feeling a little on the shy side. He was always a little nervous when it came to pretty girls, what could he say?

“Well, two are dead so I would say so.” He hummed. He scratched the back of his head before he was pulling his gun from its holster, trying to ignore the sexual implications that sentence had. “I don’t really know you– so should I make this quick and painless or– oh, you’re gone.” he looked around, frowning when he saw that there was no one in sight. “Guess I wasn’t her type.” Richie murmured.

“Oh, honey, don’t sell yourself short!” Richie looked up in time to see the underside of a car crushing him on the spot. The pain surging through his body left him hearing white noise– just because he could heal himself doesn’t mean he couldn’t feel pain.

“Why the _ fuck _ is a car everyone’s go to?” He grunted. She moved the car aside effortlessly, as if she wasn’t pushing two tons out of her way. She pulled Richie up by his collar, smiling when she heard the quiet sound of the suit tearing. “Damn, you’re prettier up close.” He mumbled. He was surprised to see her face pinken at that. He could taste the blood in his mouth, it was starting to get tacky and make him a little nauseous, if he was being honest.

“God, you’re just like every other man, aren’t you?” she asked, jumping when Richie’s ringtone began to play. 

_ “ _ _ I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want. So tell me what you want, what you really, really want–” _

“_ Shit– _ sorry I just– I forgot to put it on vibrate, do you mind?” She let him go, before she was looking around and laughing.

“Is this a fucking joke? Do you not know who you’re dealing with?”

“I’m really really sorry– God, this is actually really embarrassing,” Richie picked up the phone, huffing aloud. “Hello? I’m sort of in the middle of some _ very _ important business.”

_ “Get out of the way.” _ was all Richie heard before Spidey was swinging down feet first and kicking Moonstone into the nearest wall. Debris exploded every which way, with Moonstone trembling from pain or rage, Richie couldn’t tell.

He gaped as Spider-Man landed on his feet, stomping over to Moonstone with intent. “I’ll uh, I’ll be right there!” Richie squeaked, his hand covering his crotch because he was definitely hard after seeing Spidey come down swinging.

\---

Fighting Moonstone had been harder than Richie had anticipated, being that she was a supervillain that he’d never before encountered. It had taken them a better part of the week to track her down and end her villainous ways. It would’ve been easier had Richie killed her, but _ no! _ Spidey had said. _ Feminism, Deadpool! Use your head. _ He didn’t quite understand what that meant, but Spider-Man had lost an impressive amount of blood, so he couldn’t exactly argue with him. 

Once she’d been brought down and arrested, the pair were quick to leave the scene as fast as they could. Richie was in no mood to deal with any paparazzi, especially when he was pretty sure he might’ve died once in the process of the fight. Women were _ scary _ and Richie hoped he would never be forced to fight one again. Moonstone had been polite enough to wreak havoc on only a small portion of downtown New York, but it had been hell making sure that civilians would be spared. Tourists would sprout up to take photos as if they weren’t risking their lives– and Richie had half a mind to let them jump into the action but Spidey refused. The fighting and protecting wore him out, and Deadpool could only do so much to help. Buildings were permanently destroyed, along with cars and the street below, Richie was embarrassed to admit. He hadn’t done this much damage to a city street since he was in highschool– and _ that _ had been a nightmare.

Spidey was quick to lean most of his weight onto Richie. Richie perked up when he felt Spider-Man’s weight sagging at his side, before he was slowly wrapping an arm around him. “Spidey?” Richie murmured, his frown deepening when the little bug slurred incoherently. “Shit– hospital, we need a hospital don’t we?” he whispered, before he was being gripped too tight for comfort and the spider’s face was getting too close to his own. 

“No hospitals. Get me out of here.” Richie didn’t need to be told twice.

“How about your place?”

“No.”

“Come on, we need to get you somewhere safe. You’re bleeding out!”

“No.”

“Spidey–”

“I’d rather die right here.”

“Are you kidding me– _ Spider-Man _.” It was awkward having to say Spidey’s name in a commanding tone, but it seemed to wake him up a little bit.

“Fine.”

Depositing Spider-Man into a cab was difficult. Getting him to scoot over was the hard part. The taxi driver quietly drove them to the address Richie had been given, but it was obvious that he was sweating from fear. Who wouldn’t be? Two costume clad guys, badly beaten up and bleeding all over the upholstery; one with guns and katanas stuck to his back? Richie wouldn’t have stopped for him and spidey if his life depended on it. “Shit. How are we gonna get in without a disguise? I don’t want people to know where you live.” Richie murmured. Spidey mumbled something quietly, shuddering when he felt Richie’s hand at his neck. “What?” He whispered.

“I,” he placed a hand on Richie’s face, his breath coming out in hot bursts, he sounded like he was hyperventilating, “hid clothes in the alley, by the apartments,” he whispered into Richie’s ear. Richie could feel his heart fluttering in his chest. The taxi stopped suddenly, with the man silently looking ahead and waiting for them to climb out.

Before Richie could pay the man, he was driving off in a rush. “Well, we got a free ride.” Richie hummed. Spidey only nodded. “Shit, you don’t look good at all, let’s get you home.”

It took longer than Richie would’ve liked, finding the clothes Spider-Man hid; then putting them on him afterward. He pushed a hood over spidey’s head, deciding to not remove his mask in fear of possibly being murdered because of it later. He slung a hoodie over himself before he was stumbling up the steps into Spidey’s apartment. He was quick to unlock the door and walked inside, nearly tripping on the steps in front. “This is some fuckin’ studio…” Richie murmured, eyeing the countless textbooks and paperwork strewn everywhere. The apartment was big, but had very little in it. A large bed took up one wall beside a window, while the other side had a kitchenette and living room area. 

He gently placed Spidey down on the bed, before he was quietly snooping. There wasn’t a single picture of him in sight, no matter how hard he looked. He couldn’t even find a name, and everything that might’ve held important documents was password protected. Richie may have been smart, but the first thing he thought to do was to break the spider’s stupid computer in half to find the information– which sounded more cave man than he would’ve liked. He pulled his mask up past his lips to wipe the excess blood off of his face. He opened up the fridge and found a few beers, deciding to snag one. He took a long drink, leaving against the kitchen counter and let his head fall back against a cabinet. He closed his eyes for a long time and simply took in the silence that he was rewarded with. 

The week was long. It was painful and tiring and he didn’t get a wink of sleep but he was superhuman so it was fine. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t exhausted. He looked over at Spider-Man, who laid limply on the bed. He made his way to Spidey’s bed and sat down. He peeled the mask up to Spider-Man’s lips, before he was wiping off the wet blood that stained his lips. He got up and took another sip of his beer, yelping when a web yanked him down onto the bed. He twisted around and looked down at Spider-Man, who was breathing too hard and smiling too much. He must’ve been dizzy from the blood loss, Richie assumed. “You’ve got pretty lips.” He mumbled, and Richie smiled. 

“Can you recognize me by them?” Richie asked, smiling when he snorted. 

“Maybe. Come here,” before Richie could say anymore, he felt Spider-Man’s masked lips press against his own, before he was falling back to bed and shaking his head. “I do not recognize those lips at all.” he mused.

Richie felt his jaw go slack when Spidey pulled away. “You did that– like, you _ did _ that… voluntarily. Are you still light headed? How much blood are you losing?” Richie asked. Spidey only smiled and curled into him. “How long does it take you to heal up?” Richie was panicked, clearly. He was just kissed– _ kissed– _holy shit. He was kissed by Spider-Man. The Amazing Spider-Man. He had never felt lips so soft, and he had never felt a spark so electrifying and he might’ve heard birds singing when it happened– he didn’t know.

“Healed in a few hours. Just gotta sleep it off,” he murmured. “You’ll stay?” He asked, and Richie nodded. 

“I forgot to tell you uh, I don’t think I’ll be able to patrol tomorrow. I’ve got some things to do and–”

“Deadpool,” Richie quieted down. “I’m in no rush to go patrolling tomorrow night. Trust me, you deserve the break. Now please sleep or get out of my apartment.” he murmured, and Richie was quick to curl up behind Spider-Man for a quick cuddle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think, id really appreciate it! (:


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> richie meets a pretty little thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit so update on my life I've cuffed a guy so I've been all over him woops woops woops anyway HERE WE ARE A LITTLE LATE LMAOOSSOSOS

Waking up at a reasonable hour was Richie’s favorite thing to do. He loved waking up just as the sun was peeking through the curtains, the gentle warmth easing him awake from his peaceful slumber. He twisted around in his sheets, rolling onto his stomach and yawning quietly. He opened his tired eyes at the sound of a few birds chirping, frowning when he saw bright white cotton pillows through his masked eyes, with a bloody smell invading his nose. He sat up suddenly, before he was turning around and stiffening up. This wasn’t his house, this  _ definitely _ wasn’t his house. He’d lost too much blood and felt more disoriented than usual, and he wasn’t in his own bed. He stumbled out of the bed, tangled up in the sheets as he quietly staggered toward the bathroom, where he heard muffled singing. 

He held his breath as he heard the quiet hum behind the door while looking for a weapon on him to utilize in the event that he murders whoever’s inside– before he realized that all of his weapons were gone. He patted himself down as he struggled to kick off the sheets from around his ankles, before tripped over himself and fell to the floor. He grunted, before he looked up at an open door to see Spidey clad in loose sweats and his mask, and a stupid t-shirt that had no right to be as tight as it was.

“Oh  _ baby _ , God is definitely real.” He whispered. Spider-Man looked over, surprised to see Deadpool lying there with an expression that was most definitely some sort of awe. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked. Richie scrambled to stand up, giving an awkward wave and letting his hands fall onto his hips. 

“I woke up and I just, I don’t know– I thought you might need some company?” He cringed at the excuse, before rubbing his hands over his face. “I mean, just to chat. Good morning! By the way...” He trailed off, looking at his surroundings to try and remember how he even got there. He’d lost a lot of blood, as did Spidey, he couldn’t quite pinpoint how long he’d been out either. Spider-Man leaned against the doorway of his bathroom and looked up at Richie, before he was shaking his head. 

“You’re so awkward, you know?” He said quietly. He leaned against the sink and crossed his arms and Richie could barely listen to him. Because Spider-Man was gorgeous. Absolutely fucking stunning. Well, from what he could see from the neck down. That incredibly tight white t-shirt with what Richie could only imagine were pretty pink nipples being showcased by that godly shirt. And those sweatpants. The ass in those sweatpants had Richie about ready to do a lot of less than savory things just to touch Spidey’s ass. “I’m mortified that I even have you inside of my house right now but I feel a little better considering you’re not wearing your suit either.” Richie looked down and squealed in surprise, his hands immediately slapping over his bare chest. He looked down at the briefs he wore and sighed in relief, thanking the Gods that Spidey had kept them on. “Wait!” He looked down at his briefs again. “These aren’t mine.”

He looked at Spider-Man for a long while, before Spidey was slamming the bathroom door closed in embarrassment. Richie laughed aloud, banging on the door as he continued to tease. “Come  _ on– _ Did you like what you see, baby boy? What’s with the peeping?” Richie’s smile couldn’t have been any bigger than it was at that moment. The thought of Spidey peeking at the goods he had underneath his suit left him wanting to show him a little more than he probably should have./

Richie wasn’t phased as the door way thrown open, getting an up close view of Spidey’s mask. If he squinted, he could imagine seeing his pretty eyes under that mask. “Listen!” His hands flailed out quickly. Richie took a quick step back but Spidey was quick to crowd his space again. “You had blood all over you. I didn’t want you to bleed out all over the place. I closed my eyes the whole time.” They were both quiet for a moment and Richie was starting to suffocate underneath his mask. “So… you wear Spider-Man underwear.” 

Richie groaned loudly as Spidey burst out laughing. Richie moved back as he walked out of the bathroom, tripping over his own blankets in the middle of the room. “Yeah, yeah, I’m a fan, shut up.” He said quickly, before adding, “you don’t happen to own things that might actually fit me, right? Because I’m pretty sure you can see the outline of my dick right now and I’m almost positive that it’s not completely concealed inside these tiny things–”

He was nearly shoved out the window.

—-

The party Beverly begged him to go to turned out to be a full on rager, in Richie’s book. Clustered up in one big frat house was half the university, he was convinced. Beverly dragged Mike in, with Bill pushing Richie to follow close behind as they made a beeline for the kitchen. “Listen, Richie! You just need to relax, you’ve been stressed out with that spider you’re so obsessed with!” Beverly teased as she rummaged through the pantry to snag a cup. She was never big on solo cups, always preferring mugs. 

Richie shrugged. “I dunno Bev, how can I relax when there is a pretty high percentage rate that I’m gonna step in vomit tonight?” He asked, before Beverly was pulling him away from the tempting selection of alcohol. God he wanted to drink. Maybe drink and find a pretty thing to flirt with for the rest of the night. Maybe it would turn into a cliche superhero romance, where Richie meets the love of his life that he has to save in the end.  _ Save the love of your life that you met at a shitty frat party or save the city, Deadpool? Make your choice. _

It didn’t have a very good ring to it.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Beverly hummed, nearly jumping for joy when a tall, way too handsome man came strolling by. “Richie! This is Ben–”

“Holy shit–  _ thank you _ Beverly,” he gave her arm a gentle squeeze as he took a step in front of Ben, “I can definitely handle the rest.” he gave Ben a sly wink before Beverly was stopping him from moving any closer. “I’m Richie, and you must be the luckiest guy in the world to have met me tonight.” Ben’s cheeks burst a scarlet color, before Beverly was hissing at him.

“My boyfriend– Richie… this is my boyfriend.” Damn.

Ben’s laugh was like music to Richie’s ears. “I don’t think I would’ve been a match for you, you’re very charming.” He giggled– fucking  _ giggled. _ Richie missed having sex and right in front of him was a Sex God™ that Beverly had wrapped around her finger. “Uh, this is my friend Stan. He’s gay?” He pointed at Stan, who was sipping out of a red solo cup.

Stan looked at Ben, before looking at Richie for a second too long. “Not anymore.” he murmured, before he was walking out of the kitchen. 

“Well, shoot. I'd like to introduce you to our friend Eddie but–”

“Oh no, I don’t think Eddie would like him…” Beverly mumbled, and Richie rolled his eyes. Of course, another guy to be set up with.

“I don’t know if he’s here yet anyway.” Ben replied. Mike and Bill introduced themselves while Richie moved aside to make himself a drink, huffing quietly to himself as he scanned the room. He didn’t need his friends to set him up with guys, he was perfectly capable of doing that and ruining it all by himself. He didn’t understand why he came anyway, he could’ve been five minutes deep in a lovely conversation with Spidey. But here he was, stuck babysitting three friends because he fucking cares. 

His drink consisted of sprite and fruit punch that tasted a little spiked. But he’d found out that it took more than one solo cup to get Deadpool drunk, which meant that frat parties weren’t that fun anymore. Unless he was trying to outdrink someone as a bet.  _ That _ was always fun. He was there to have a good time with his friends, so he could at least make an attempt to look like he was happy to be there and not sulking.

“Eddie!” Ben called out when a tiny thing shoved through the crowd. His hair was a mess, and there was blood on his neck and soaking through his jacket at his shoulder. When Ben pointed it out, he wiped at it with the sleeve of his hoodie and smiled. 

“Sorry I’m late, I was sorta caught up with something.” he said breathlessly. Richie glanced over when he heard the name, before turning to look back at the drinks as though they were the most interesting thing in the world. Eddie was cute. Eddie was  _ cute as fuck. _ Richie shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he heard them chatting, when a pretty laugh sang throughout the room. Was this love? Was Richie about to fucking fall in love right now?

“That over there is Richie! He’s Beverly’s friend.” Ben gave him a wink and Eddie couldn’t help but give Ben a stern look back. Richie shyly turned to glance over at them, before he was looking down at the drinks. If he didn’t act cool and casual, he’d never get laid. He took a deep breath and turned to face Eddie, who’s look pierced him. 

“Ben…” Eddie murmured, before giving Richie one of the fakest smiles ever.

“You’re bleeding a lot, Eddie… Are you okay?.” Beverly said quietly, her hand in moving to touch his shoulder. He waved her off and smiled nonchalantly. 

“Maybe I’ll have your friend patch me up, I’m fine! I promise.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before he was making his way over. Eddie’s movements looked forced as he walked over to Richie, who was quietly sipping his punch. 

“You look happy to be here.” Richie said quietly, and Eddie snorted a little.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked. “I’m exhausted and I have an exam tomorrow, but why not go to a party and get drunk instead?” Eddie pulled off his jacket and let it drop onto a chair, before he was touching his bloody shirt sleeve. 

“I don’t want to be here either, so at least we’ve got that in common.” Richie took a sip of his drink, not noticing the way Eddie eyed him curiously. When he looked down at him, Eddie looked away. “Shit, that looks bad.” Richie put his drink down when Eddie waved him off. “Should we patch you up, you’re  _ soaked–” _ Eddie lifted his shirt up and there wasn’t a wound in sight. 

“I’m in theatre,” was his quick reasoning, “so, why are you stuck here?” He asked, almost timidly. He glanced up at Richie and he couldn’t help but let out a dreamy sigh, because Eddie was handsome. He was handsome with a capital H. 

“I mean, I  _ was _ stuck here, but now it might not be so bad.” Richie downed the rest of his fruit punch and licked at his red stained lips. “I’m babysitting my friends, no drinking for me tonight. I’m drinking anyway because my tolerance is pretty through the roof.”

“Isn’t that what every guy says?” Eddie mused, and Richie perked up at that. 

“A lot of guys make certain claims they can’t prove. But I’m willing to show you a couple of my truths if you want to see for yourself.”

“Is this some weird way you challenge guys into drinking with you?” Eddie asked.

“If you can’t hack it, it’s fine.”

“Oh I can fucking hack it.”

“I’ll go easy on you.”

“Don’t you dare.”

The night ended up being relatively shorter than Richie had anticipated. With him and Eddie grabbing their friend group to judge their drinking contest, and gaining quite the crowd as they loaded themselves up with shots and solo cups and at some point they started drinking straight out of bottles but neither of them seemed to break a sweat. 

“Statistically, they should have alcohol poisoning or they should have drowned,” Stan whispered to Mike, who nodded. Richie looked at the pair, who were eyeing him almost worriedly.

People continued to cheer the pair on. They sat at the center of the living room, drinking everything possible. People began passing drinks that were in coolers in the back, just to keep the drinks flowing. “I haven’t really seen Richie drunk before though… can he get drunk?” Mike whispered back.

“I’m not entirely sure.”

“Should we stop this?”

“I’m not entirely sure.”

“Well what are you sure on, Stan?” 

Stan looked at Mike for a long time, before smiling a little bit. “I’m sure I’m a little tipsy myself.” 

Richie finally took a look at the crowd. He might’ve been tipsy, after a few too many shots and cups and bottles and looking at Eddie made Richie realize that he might’ve been gone too. But he looked determined to win. It hurt to concede, but Richie wasn’t prepared to have a young college student die in his arms because he wanted to show off. “Okay  _ fine. _ ” Richie huffed, dropping his last cup on the ground and turning to face Eddie who was smiling smugly at him, “you win.” Eddie threw his hands in the air and grinned triumphantly as people cheered him on. He gave a bow and helped Richie stagger up, before thanking him. 

“I haven’t had that much fun in a really long time,” he murmured. “Thanks for letting me win.” Eddie added, before he was tugging them through the throngs of people and taking him back into the kitchen. “Wanna make me a winner’s drink and maybe we can complain about how our friends try to set us up with every guy they meet?” 

Eddie was something special, Richie could tell. At one moment he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be pushed into meeting Richie, then seconds later he was challenging him to a drinking contest and then asking for Richie to make him a drink with those pretty eyes and a bite of his lower lip and Richie was gonna try really hard not to pop a boner right then and there. Fuck, what guy has eyelashes that looked curled to perfection like Eddies? Or a smile that pretty, or hair as done up as nicely as his was? Maybe Richie was just sex deprived (or relationship deprived) but Eddie was  _ cute.  _ Richie grinned, before he was grabbing the first bottle he could and unscrewing the cap. 

“Your wish is my command, sweetheart.” Fixing up a drink for Eduardo was apparently a challenging side quest in this mess he calls his life. He made four drinks that Eddie deemed  _ fucking gross _ before he was making him a fruity smoothie and dumping alcohol in that instead. 

They took their drinks outside and sat at the back porch, watching people wrestle around in the pool and be a general disturbance to the neighbors. “So, Eddie, right?” Eddie rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Yep, that’s the name everyone was cheering when I beat you. So I think that’s me.” He took a sip of his drink as Richie clasped a hand over his heart and groaned in response.

“That hurt, I’ll admit it.” Richie hummed. “What’s a guy like you doing in a shitty place like this?”

“Well,” Eddie looked out at the little pool party that was going on a few feet away from them. “I had plans tonight but they got cancelled.” Richie looked down at Eddie, who continued to sip his drink as though Richie wasn’t giving him the most surprised look ever. 

“Who would ever cancel on a pretty face like you?” 

“Just a friend…” he trailed off, before he was leaning back on his hands and looking at Richie from the corner of his eye. “We were just gonna go work out, but I kind of kicked his ass the other day so we decided to take a break. Well,  _ he _ decided to take a break. I ended up working out and getting the hell beaten out of me.” He ran a hand through his hair and moved it away, to see flakes of blood still dusting his fingers.

“And you bled a little bit, sweetheart. So I’m assuming the theatre thing was a small lie.” Richie moved to run his finger along the blood that was smeared on his neck. Eddie watched as Richie ran his fingers through it. He didn’t know what he was doing, but Eddie didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. “So,” he let his hand drop from Eddie’s neck, before looking at his blood stained fingertips. “You don’t look very strong, was the other guy even trying?”

Eddie laughed aloud, and Richie couldn’t tell if he was leaning into Richie subconsciously or with intent, but he definitely didn’t mind. “He’s a really strong guy. He gets in a lot of fights, so I’d like to say he’s really strong. And tall, too.” He mused. 

“You look so gone for him, you sure he’s not a boyfriend?” 

Eddie looked up at Richie and snorted. “He’s definitely not. He’s not the type to be serious about that kind of thing, he’s just a really good guy.” 

“Well I guess that just means I can flirt with you, right?” Richie asked.

Eddie smiled and shrugged a little bit, because why fucking not? “I thought you weren’t interested in guys your friends set you up with?” He asked, and Richie shook his head.

“I’m pretty sure you were the one that said that, not me.” Richie whispered, before Eddie was looking up at him with that look that said  _ kiss me _ and how could Richie say no to that? He leaned in, waiting for Eddie to pull away, but he stayed where he was. His lips gently brushed against his, and he sighed quietly before he was pressing his lips against Eddie’s and leaning into it. Eddie’s hand gently gripped at Richie’s shirt, pulling him closer before he was being pushed away. “Shit, was that too much? Sorry– maybe I am drunk–” 

“No no,” Eddie shook his head and gave RIchie’s hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“I swear I’m not some weird sleazebag that just picks up guys at frat parties– shit, I don’t think I’ve actually gone on a date with someone in months, let alone been able to sleep with someone.” He rushed out, and Eddie was quick to press heated lips against his. Richie sighed into it, letting his eyes fall shut as Eddie took the lead to coax his mouth open and lick into his mouth. It was warm and wet and everything Richie every needed and more. When Eddie pulled away, he licked at Richie’s lower lip and smiled.

“I’ve never done this before.” Eddie admitted.

Richie deflated a little bit. Well, shit. He couldn’t just fuck a virgin at some shitty frat party on a fucking Thursday. How’s that for the worst first fuck in the world? He scratched the back of his head and gave Eddie a smile. “Oh, wow. Really? I don’t know if you want your first time to be with a stranger–”

“Oh god, no, I’m not a virgin I meant… this is the first time I’m just doing this whole one night stand thing.” Eddie ran a hand through his hair and smiled up at Richie. Richie smiled back. 

“We don’t have to–”

“I want to!” Eddie said loudly, before he was shyly placing a hand over Richie’s. “I mean uh… I want to. Should we um. Should we just go up stairs?” Eddie asked, and Richie was quick to stand up. 

“Yes, uh yeah. Yes.” 

**Author's Note:**

> ya'll keep me motivated! my tumblr is @itskitschyrichie  
I'd really appreciate some comments, criticisms, things you think I should put in the next chapter maybe? maybe even questions you might have?


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